A Manifesto

Any innocent habit can lull.

Pull the man into in-consequence;
The easy-way-out as they say.
The one who knows a little,
Knows also the value of consequence.
It is either a thing of beauty
Or a thing of meaning or both.

The seeker is like a low-brow bee
Taking part in and Partaking of
A grand pollination.

If required, he will prepare to be the bee
or the air, the flower or the soil or just him.
Or she will have to observe herself closely
Looking at the bee, the flowers, the soil
the other day. It will cost sweat,
But then do we not run the last mile of a marathon.
Much watching has to be done;
And watching out too. Watching out
For that lulling.

Because inconsequence is
- not the end of the world -
but a missed opportunity to partake.
Share with bees and flowers this existence.
Plainly said, Inconsequence is wasted divinity.

Thus avowed, imagine this adventure.
We are running up and down a gargantuan mountain
of glasses upon glasses filling up, still or fomenting
with things flowing from somewhere above unseen yet;
Overwhelming bearers of new discernment.
Our armaments : care, prudence, love and imagination.

For G

What has been said before, there's a great lot of it,

And a lot that is great, greatness being like myth

Helping us live, helping us love.

Therefore, the little that I have to say

Need not be said. Yet I'll celebrate anyway !

And what I have to say is not that true love is great,

Nor that love surprises in many ways, and that we may too

Surprise it. It is that in love, the surprises form their own tune and song,

Their own dance. And when the many little songs were tentative, the many steps

Guarded, that little extra time spent anchoring later came to this mind

As warmth in guise of surprise. As would a calm sunny sea after

A stormy sailing on the way to a lucky Paradise.




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Written sometime during Summer '11. definitely before sept.